


Number the Stars

by dedizenoflight



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Betrayal, Established Relationship, Gangs, Government Conspiracy, Gun Violence, High Speed Chases, Hostage Situations, M/M, Multi, Police, References to Drugs, end-game marriage, hank and connor are already in a relationship this is just kinda exploring it and other new things, the family story nobody asked for, they love each other okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15209135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedizenoflight/pseuds/dedizenoflight
Summary: A year has passed since the Android Revolution of 2038. Things are supposed to be settling down. You’d think that, right? At least Hank and Connor are slowly settling down into domestic life.And then, that girl shows up on their porch, bleeding red and blue. What were they supposed to do, leave her out in the rain? But bringing her inside brings them a whole new world of trouble— trouble that might tear Detroit, and the country, apart.What’s a family? Can they even be one?Rated Mature for violence, drug mentions, and graphic depictions of injury. Rating could change to Explicit.





	1. Stormy Night

**Author's Note:**

> So. Welcome to my first Detroit fic. (sticks leg out) 
> 
> I can't guarantee this will be any good, but I got the idea for it and I was really excited to at least try to write it out! I hope that you all enjoy it too. I am open to any and all feedback, as well as constructive criticism.

Lightning flashes through the thin curtains of the Anderson living room, and Hank lowly begins to count under his breath. One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi... and then, thunder rumbles across the city of Detroit. "Got to nine," Hank says, reaching towards the half-cold bottle of beer sitting on the coffee table, taking a deep swig of it. "Lightning's about two miles away. Good thing we're here and not there, eh, Connor?"

The older man motions his bottle of beer towards the television, the program tuned in to a live concert at the Cyberlife Arena. The Michigan Brothers, the famous jazz band, were back in Detroit on tour, and held a great big midnight concert to celebrate. Not that Hank really wanted to go-- as much as he liked the Michigan Brothers, he really didn't want to go out into those crowds and brave the waves of people just to listen to their music. He'd much rather stay in here, where he could stay warm and not have his old ears blasted out.

Coiled up beside him, Connor seems to be lost in thought, his LED swirling yellow. That should have been Hank's cue that the android was thinking of something, or, rather, accessing weather reports to see if he could one up him in terms of measuring distance. He does not disappoint.

"The lightning struck approximately one and three fourths of a mile away," Connor reports, leaning further back into the sofa. A flannel blanket rests across his lap, despite the fact that he did not need it. "But I agree. I would much rather be in here."

"Can't you just let me have this one thing? One and three fourths is almost the same as two at this point." Hank sighs, looking over at the dark haired android. Connor meets his gaze with those wide, dark eyes, and after a moment, he averts his eyes, shrugging his shoulders in an exaggerated roll. "At this point, I'd swear you're just smarting off at me because you enjoy it."

"Accuracy, especially when determining how far away dangerous weather is, is always important, Hank." Connor brightly says, completely missing the point. Hank just rolls his eyes and polishes off his beer, setting it down on the coffee table. He adjusts his feet, the bottom of his left foot coming into contact with Sumo's furry body, rubbing a line into his spine. The dog had lodged himself into the small space between the sofa and the coffee table, making it nigh impossible to get up without stepping on him. Sumo didn't seem to mind this at all, but it sure did make getting up and going to the kitchen hard.

The current set ends, and the band on stage takes a break for intermission, right as another loud peal of thunder shakes the house. Sumo quickly sits up, almost hitting his head on the coffee table, and whimpers loudly. He puts his front paws into Connor's lap, and instead of pushing him off, like he should, Connor enables such bad behavior and tucks his head into his neck, petting him softly. "That strike was much closer than the last. Did that scare you, Sumo? Was it frightening? It's okay. Your dad and I are here to keep you safe."

Hank makes an faux disgusted noise at the two of them, using the opportunity to stand and head towards the kitchen to throw away his beer bottle. "That dog doesn't need protecting from the damn weather, Connor. You baby him so damn much, it's amazing that he doesn't bark at his own farts." He really shouldn't say that, because now that was guaranteed to happen next. Sumo already barked at his own shadow sometimes, barking at his farts would be un-fucking-bearable.

Connor furrows his dark brows, looking over his shoulder at him. If Hank didn't know any better, he'd say that Connor was almost offended that he suggested such a thing. "I do not baby him. I merely reassure him whenever he's frightened. It is important to--"

Hank cuts him off at the pass, pulling out another beer, and a glass bottle with Cyberlife's logo emblazoned on it, filled to the brim with cobalt-blue thirium. Half the fridge was filled to the brim with his crap, and had been for a while now. "Yeah, yeah, so, do you want some blue blood or nah? It's about time for your weekly fill up, isn't it?"

The android pauses, his blue LED turning yellow again for a few moments, probably checking to see if this was true. After a moment, he nods. "Indeed, it is. I would very much appreciate it if you brought it with you."

"Just say 'thank you', Connor." Hank returns to the couch, a cold beer in one hand, the thirium in the other, passing it to Connor. It was hard to break the android of old habits, like speaking formally and respectfully to him all the time. He had just barely gotten him to stop calling him 'Lieutenant' here at home, months after he had moved into the house.

Hank, surprisingly, had been the one to suggest it, a month or two after the end of the Detroit Android Revolution of 2038. After deviancy had been recognized, and androids were liberated as their own free people, Connor no longer had any reason to return to Cyberlife permanently. He was reassigned back to the Detroit Police as part of the newly founded Android Crime Task Force a month after the revolution, and for a while there, he stayed at the police department full-time, often busying himself with jobs and tasks, and reassigning entire cases over to the task force.

The older man had said, blustering, that it'd be much simpler if he just stayed with him. He didn't have to stay in there, *alone* all night, doing all sorts of boring shit. He almost wished the ground had eaten him toes up when he said this, but, Connor had just smiled that stupid smile of his and said if that was what he wanted, then he would do it. It wasn't hard at all; Connor only had the clothes on his back to move in, after all, and seemed content with sleeping-- well, going into rest mode-- on his couch.

It was odd seeing him in his RK800 clothes all the time, even after Congress passed a law saying that androids no longer had to wear their armbands and triangles. Hank took him to a thrift shop after work one day and let him run wild in there for a while, and he came home with an armful of clothes, shoes, and various accessories. It was almost cute, watching him meticulously fold up all of his new finds, looking the clothes over in almost wonder. It was almost like he was realizing he was a person now, not just a machine.

Thus, Connor became a staple in his life. Hank began waking up to the smell of actual, freshly cooked food, and coffee, and was always pushed out the door by 9 AM sharp. Connor threw out the vast majority of his fast-food coupons and pamphlets, much to his dismay, and religiously monitored his alcohol intake. He downloaded a variety of cookbooks and started cooking, every day, only allowing them to go out for fast food if there was no other option. He seemed obsessed with the idea of making Hank healthy again, and for a while, the man had no idea how to react to it, aside from complaining that he was making him eat *salad* and drink *water*, for cripes sake.

But he had actually started feeling better. Going out beyond going to work didn't seem like an impossible chore anymore. And Connor always smiled and encouraged him so much, that it wasn't too hard for him to grow to really like him. ...Really, *really* like him. Hank resolved to not say a single word about it. He wasn't about to be a skeezy old man and *confess* this crap to Connor, who probably didn't feel the same way anyway, and he just--

There's a gentle nudge at Hank's side, and he startles himself out of his thoughts, looking over at Connor. The brunette stares up at him, a hand resting on Hank's arm, the thirium now resting on the coffee table. "What is it, Hank?" The android quietly asks, his LED illuminating him in blue. "Your heart rate has picked up, and your body language indicates that you're thinking about something that--"

"Connor, c'mon," Hank mumbles, sliding a palm over the back of Connor's palm. His LED stutters into yellow, and he swears Connor's breath hitches a little. "None of this analyzing crap. I'm alright. I was just thinking about when you moved in and how I felt like a weirdo having you around. It was like living with my mom again."

Connor knows it's more than that. He always did. But he still smiles anyway, turning his hand over under Hank's grasp. He lifts the silver haired man's hand to his lips, and presses a soft kiss there. Hank's heart does not stutter. No it does not. "If you so insist," Connor teases lightly. "Are you sure you weren't thinking about how you had feelings for me even back then? And how you were surprised when I told you I felt the same?"

"Shut the fuck up, you little brat." Hank has had enough of Connor's smart-aleck mouth, and smothers it with one of the nearby sofa pillows. "I should send you out to sleep in the dog house, that'd serve you right!"

The android pushes the pillow away from his face, and is almost ready to protest, when a huge crack of thunder shakes the entire neighborhood to its foundation. Sumo howls, and the house plunges into darkness moments later. "Shit!" Hank swears, fumbling around for his mobile phone, finding it and turning its flashlight on. "What the fuck was that??"

Connor's LED lights up the dark room, circulating from blue to yellow and back again. "It seems the lightning strike has temporarily overwhelmed the transformer down the street," He helpfully reports. "It's nothing serious. The power should come back on in a few minutes."

Hank curses under his breath, sweeping the room with the beam of his flashlight. Sumo has somehow squished himself under the coffee table, besides himself with fear. "Well, there goes our plans for the evening," He grouses, getting to his feet. He goes to the window and cracks the curtains open, seeing just how hard the rain was coming down. Even the streetlights had been blown out by the lightning strike, the whole world dark. "Guess we'll just have to sit here and wait for the power to come back on. What a fuckin' shitshow..."

His partner does not have something smart to say to that, for once in his life, so, for a while, they sit in the darkness and listen to the rain pound down on the roof, and to the thunder that roars across the city. Their house is temporarily illuminated by lightning every few seconds, or by the headlights of a taxi or car driving down their road. They don't really say anything; Hank finds that they don't have to. It was actually kind of nice, sitting here and listening to the rain-- even if it did cut off their power and ruin their concert night in.

The sound of screeching tires fills the air, probably somebody sliding on the road and trying to correct themselves. A pair of headlights illuminates the back wall of the living room, traveling up the walls and into the kitchen, disappearing down the road and plunging them back into darkness. Neither man or machine really worry about it-- but then, the sound of rain is punctuated by heavy, repeated thudding, a pair of fists slamming against their front door, over and over again.

Hank and Connor are on their feet in moments, Hank retreating to their bedroom for a moment to fetch his handgun out of his nightstand. Connor grabs Sumo by the collar, who has suddenly found his bravery, and is up on his feet, barking like mad at the door. Who could that be, this late at night? And for them to be slamming on the door so much, it couldn't possibly mean anything good... Hank shoots a glance at Connor, whose LED cycles to yellow, then blue once more.

"It's just one person," Connor states, one hand holding firm to Sumo's collar as Hank passes him the mobile phone, keeping the light trained on the door. "Young. Probably a teenager."

"Yeah, well, they're about to get the fucking shit scared out of them for playing the worst game of ding-dong-ditch ever," Hank growls, gun pointed ahead as he advances towards the living room door, the pounding still echoing across the house. "It's too fucking late in the night for this kind of crap!" His spare hand reaches out towards the deadbolt, slowly unlocking it and unlocking the lock on the door handle itself. He looks at Connor, and after a shared glance, the officer throws the door open, ready to raise unholy hell upon whatever little shit thought it was a great idea to try and prank a police lieutenant--

And he stops dead, unable to do anything but gape at the sight before him. The flashlight illuminates a girl-- couldn't be over than fifteen, probably, a little chubby, wide green eyes staring him down with pure fear. That's the first thing he processes, the next being the fact that she's splattered in red and blue blood, bleeding red from a scratch on her face and neck, bleeding blue from a sparking, gushing electronic wound on her right shoulder, hands grasping her arms from the chill of the rain. She's soaked to the bone, not dressed for the weather at all aside from a thin coat, a backpack slung haphazardly over her shoulder.

Even Connor seems stunned at the sight, his eyes surely taking her in and analyzing her wounds. Hank can't help himself either, trying to find words, and failing. What the fuck was she doing out here, in the shape she was in, pounding on his door at almost one in the goddamn morning? He finally opens his mouth to say something, and that's when she finally talks, her voice stuttering and choked with terror.

"Please," The girl rasps, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. "P-Please help me."


	2. Ellie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is actually coming out a bit faster than I expected. Here's hoping I don't burn out! Luckily, I wrote down the entire story summary, including events, in case I get lost. 
> 
> We're getting somewhere now! Yay!

Hank and Connor stand there for a moment more, gaping at this girl who's bleeding all over their porch. "P-Please," She begs again, swiveling her head over her shoulder to look down the street. "L-Let me in! They're l-looking for me...!"

"Whoa, whoa, kid, slow down," Hank finally finds his voice, reaching over and putting the gun down on the back of the nearby arm chair. He clasps a hand on her uninjured shoulder, not liking the way she immediately flinches back at his touch. "*Who* is coming?? What the hell are you doin' out here looking like this??"

Connor releases Sumo and steps forward, probably to say something sensible like 'we should take her to a hospital'. As he opens his mouth, though, a pair of headlights illuminates their street, the sound of screeching tires against wet asphalt echoing across the neighborhood. The girl's breathing palpably picks up, and she looks back at them, trembling under Hank's grasp.

She looks terrified. It's almost like she expects them to throw her back out to the street, to whatever fate awaited her out there. Connor weighs the pros and cons of the situation-- **[Bring Inside]/[Leave]** \-- just for a moment-- and then he reaches out, pushing the girl inside and closing the door behind them, swiftly locking the deadbolt and taking the girl by the arm.

"Hank," He says, going right into professional mode. "Stay hidden, but keep an eye out on that incoming vehicle. I'm going to hide her."

"W-Wait," Hank stutters, barely able to process the fact that the android just drug this girl inside their house. "The fuck you mean, you're going to hide her??"

The android does exactly what he says, briskly walking the soaking girl to their bathroom, and pushing the door open. He does not need light to see, but she does, so he takes her hands and leads her to the bathtub, helping her inside. "Stay here," He tells the almost weeping girl, offering what he hopes is a soothing pat on the shoulder. "We'll go see what's going on out there and then come back. Don't make a sound, okay?"

All the girl can do is whimper, but she draws her bloody legs to her chest. She puts her face down in them, and makes an an attempt to still her trembling. Satisfied, Connor draws the shower curtain around the tub, and retreats back to the living room. Hank is still poised by the front door, peeking out of the glass, his gun back in his hand.

"See anything?" Connor asks, kneeling down by the window. The man shakes his head, and points down towards the source of the illumination. Connor parts the curtains just enough for him to see down the street, and observes the now stopped car. His LED circles to yellow, focusing hard on seeing if he can't identify who is out there.

The rain makes it hard for his sensors to pierce the space outside, but he can make out the shape of the car. It's not an automatic, which explains the high speeds and sharp turns, and he can spot three people returning to the car. One of them has a swirling yellow LED-- an android. The other two are human, one man, and one woman, the woman taking the driver's position.

Light pours in through the windows, Sumo barking at it. Hank loudly shushes the dog, swearing as the car comes to a stop outside of the driveway. "Are they fucking going door to door looking for this kid?"

"It seems that way," Connor murmurs, pulling back from the curtain. "Shall we pretend we're not home?"

"And have them bust down the goddamn door? No, I'll talk to them. My ugly mug will scare them off." Hank resolves, taking a few steps back from the door. Connor takes up a position behind him, and right on cue, the ringer starts going off like crazy.

"Hello??" A female voice calls in through the door, followed by two more short blasts of the doorbell. "Hello, please, is anybody home?? Please, I need help! Please, my sister is gone!"

This could be a trap. Both of them realize that, but they're presented with no choice, especially if this group was determined to find this girl. Tucking the gun into the waistband of his sweatpants, Hank pulls in a nice, deep breath, and, like the crotchety old man he is, pretends that he's just been woken up from a nice, deep sleep. "I'm comin', I'm comin', give a guy a second!"

Hank takes his mobile phone back from Connor and unlocks the door, and opens it just a crack. He shines the phone's flashlight out the door, and onto the rag-tag little group that's made its way onto his porch, staring them down. "The fuck do you guys want?" He says, narrowing his eyes as he takes them in.

The woman is soaked to the bone, green eyed and red haired, accompanied by a tall, skinny white man, and a black haired GT600 android. The android holds himself in an odd way, his right hand covering a spot on his side. Hank spots it quickly-- there's thirium leaking from under his fingers. Injured, but from what?

"I-I'm so sorry," The woman begins, her shoulders trembling, her body illuminated by the headlights. She looks him over, and for a split second, Hank would dare say that her eyes grow wider with recognition, but she makes no note of it. "B-But my sister-- my sister disappeared from our house just down t-the street. I've been looking for her all night, b-but nobody's been able to tell me anything. Have you seen h-her?"

"Lady, I've been in bed since nine," Hank says, shaking his head. He really doesn't like the way that android is staring at him. "If there was a girl, I would have seen her. I'm sorry. Have you filed a police report yet?"

The woman's eyes dart back to her companion's, then back to his. "N-Not yet," She admits, hugging her shoulders to ward off the chill. "I-I was hoping maybe she was in the neighborhood and didn't g-go far. I'll... I'll probably call them next. I just.... I-I'm just so scared. It's dark, it's r-raining, it's cold..."

She looks up at Hank, green eyes shining with tears. "S-She's a cyborg, b-both arms and her right leg a-are fake. Green eyes, brown hair, kinda chubby, y-you can't miss her. A-Are you sure you...?"

"Didn't see a thing." Hank confirms, perhaps a little more firmly than he should. "You really should go make that police report. Get out of the rain before you give yourselves the colds of your lives, you hear me?"

With that, he closes the door, and locks it. The group doesn't leave the stoop right away, pausing there for a few moments more, before they give up and retreat back to the car. It rips down the street, and the bright yellow beams of the car disappear into the abyss of the night.

Mere moments later, there's a low, electrical hum, and the house is flooded by light and sound again. "Oh, fuck you, we coulda really used you just a few seconds ago!" The older man barks at the now present electricity. Connor takes a step back as Hank turns on his heel and takes his gun out of his waistband, setting it down on the armchair.

"They were looking for her," He says, softly. "Her heart rate and body language implied that she was lying about her being missing. Her stuttering was forced as well."

"I know," Hank groans, rubbing his hands down his face. "I knew they were liars. Fucking hell. 'My sister is missing but I didn't file a police report'... What the fuck have we gotten ourselves into, Connor? We should just take her to the police station. Something's up, and I don't like it."

Connor looks back over his shoulder, towards the closed bathroom door. "I agree," He says, his voice quiet. "But we should calm her down first. We need any information we can get about her situation. That will help us make a report for her."

"Yeah, yeah," The older man says, heading into the kitchen and opening the fridge up. "I'll see if I can't scrounge anything up for her. Go and talk to her, see if you can't get anything out of her. Maybe get her patched up and dried out while we're at it. Those injuries looked pretty gnarly."

Her physical injuries were not too bad, but the breakage of her cybernetic shoulder was something that needed to be addressed immediately. Connor goes into their bedroom for a moment, going around to the nightstand at his side of the bed, and slipping the bottom drawer open. He pulls out a small, metallic case, Cyberlife's logo emblazoned across it, and opens it up. There were a few spare biocomponants in here-- they should be compatible with her shoulder. This wedge piece should seal that wound up.

Grabbing the wedge, a small butane torch, and a package of blue blood, Connor spares another moment to grab a large, button down shirt and a spare pair of boxers. She would need something to wear while he dried her clothes, after all. He goes across the hall, and knocks on the door, rapping sharply three times. There's a loud gasp from the inside, which means the girl hadn't somehow slipped out and scurried out a window.

"I'm coming in," He calls inside, opening the door up. The curtain around the tub is still pulled taut. Connor kneels next to the tub, puts down the biocomponants and the shirt, and slides the curtain off to the side.

There she is, sitting in a wet pool of rainwater and blue blood. Her trembling has lessened a little, but, she still stares at Connor with those wide, distrustful eyes. Adjusting himself to be more at her eye level, Connor offers the girl a hand, hoping that he can prove that he is trustworthy. "My name is Connor. I've brought you a few biocomponants so I can fix your shoulder. What's your name?"

She stares, just for a moment more. She seems to be struggling with whether or not she should really say anything. After a few moments of silence, she slowly reaches out, her fingers brushing against his palm. Her fingers are warm, smooth, just like his. "....Ellie," She says, just loud enough for him to hear. "My name is Ellie."

"Ellie. That's a nice name." Connor's programming of understanding teenaged children tells him that this was good, so far. He was gaining her trust, slowly but surely, the key to any successful interrogation. ...Well, interrogation might seem to be a bit of a harsh word for this. "Ellie, can you turn your right shoulder towards me?"

It takes Ellie a moment to move, but, she does as she's told and turns her injured shoulder towards him. Connor analyzes the wound and the white, deactivate skin around it before he does anything; a fair chunk of the top layer of the cybernetic limb is missing. The wound seems like it was made from smashing her shoulder against.... the asphalt of the road, if those black streaks that surround the wound told him anything. She has lost a fair bit of blue blood. The cuts on her right cheek, and down the right side of her neck, are pavement scrapes.

**[Ellie jumped from a moving car.]**

He can see it in the space of his mind palace; the car, driving down the road, Ellie positioned in the back seat. She struggles for a moment, and then throws the car door open, throwing herself out of the car as it turns the corner. Her right side hits, hard, and she slides a few feet, where she lays prone for a few moments. Then, without a moment to lose, she pushes herself onto her feet, and starts running.

Connor exits the reconstruction program, and gets right to work on fixing her shoulder. Ellie doesn't make a noise as he replenishes the blue blood in the limb, filling the gaping wound with the wedge componant. He instructs her to close her eyes as he flicks on the butane burner, sealing the wedge in place. This was as good as it was going to get, until they could get her to the police station, where there were more supplies and better options for her shoulder.

Next, her physical wounds. The brunette android pushes himself to his feet, retrieving the first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet. There's some rubbing alcohol; not ideal, but it will have to do for right now until they take her to the police station. Connor kneels again, and tips her head to the left, gently swiping down the wounds with a moistened piece of gauze. Ellie whimpers, and bites her lip, but does not display any other signs of discomfort.

He finishes the process with a few large bandaids, covering up as much of the scraping as he can. "There we go," He says lightly, throwing away the wrappers and the bloody gauze. "Ellie, I've brought you a shirt and some shorts to wear while I dry your current clothes. Do you mind taking them off? I'll turn around and I won't peek, I promise."

Ellie honestly seems all too happy to shrug off her sopping backpack, her hands going to pull off her pale pink sweater. Connor quickly stands and turns around, hands laced behind his back, the sopping sweater, a blue undershirt, a pair of shorts, her undergarments and a pair of knee high socks being thrown onto the ground next to him with a wet flop. A pair of tennis shoes follow shortly after.

He can see a pale hand reach out towards the clothes resting on the closed toilet lid, and he waits the appropriate amount of time before he turns around again. The shirt is way too big for her, her arms helplessly swimming in the long sleeves, but she's at least covered up for now.

Connor offers her a hand, and helps her out of the tub, gathering up her wet clothes and shoes. "Go into the kitchen," He urges her. "I'm sure Hank has found something for you to eat. Tell him if you need anything else, okay?"

All Ellie does is nod, and she wanders out of the bathroom. Connor pulls her wet backpack out of the tub and goes to deposit her wet things into the dryer. He turns it on to the fast cycle, and pauses for a moment, watching the clothes go in circles inside the dryer. Ellie was... a mystery.

Something he couldn't begin to make sense of, beyond one thing; her 'sister' was looking for her. And she did not want to be found.

The dryer is making a very odd clanging noise. That was odd; was it the shoes? Connor stops the cycle and kneels down, reaching into the dryer to find the source of the noise. It's not the shoes, he finds, they're too soft to be making such a racket. It sounded metallic. He fishes around through the wet clothes, his hand coming into contact with something a little hot, and smooth.

He pulls it out. It doesn't look too out of the ordinary, at first. It's a small, oval shaped piece of wood, with metal caps on the end. But, that's not what it really is, is it? Connor presses a small metal button near one of the caps, and a three inch blade springs out of the handle, covered in blue blood.

Connor lifts the knife to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the thirium. His analyzers come back with results immediately. It's thirium from a GT600 model, the same one that was with Ellie's 'sister'.

**[Ellie stabbed the GT600.]**

That wound explain the wound, and how she managed to struggle her way out of the backseat. Slowly, Connor closes the penknife, and puts it on the dryer's top, resuming the spin cycle. He will tell Hank about this soon, but, for right now, they had to work on gaining Ellie's trust. Perhaps she will tell them why she stabbed the GT600 and why she threw herself out of a speeding car.

Closing the laundry room door behind him, Connor heads back to the kitchen. Hank's sitting at the kitchen table with Ellie, trying to talk to her, Sumo curled up under her bare feet. A glass of water and a warmed up plate of spinach pasta sit in front of her, but it looks like she hasn't really touched either.

"What were you doing out there, in the middle of the night?" Connor hears Hank asking her as he enters the room. Ellie stares down at the pasta, her brunette braids still dripping water into her lap, and does not say a word. Hank sighs, and tries again. "I mean, it was a bloody monsoon out there. I was afraid the wind was gonna blow ya right down the street."

Ellie's lips quirk up into the littlest of smiles, for just one moment. It's a fingernail hold of trust, and Hank seizes on to it, determined to not let it go to waste. "That woman that showed up after you, was that really your sister? Or was she lying to us?"

The girl's green eyes dart off to the side for a moment, her pink tongue wetting her lips, fingers laced tightly together. She gives him the barest of nods, the two men sharing a look between each other. Verbal confirmation would be nice, but... it was better than nothing.

"Well," Hank says, pushing himself up from the kitchen table with a groan. "You stay here for a minute and eat up. I'm gonna go talk to Connor for a few minutes." Taking him by the arm, the older man leads the android back out of the kitchen, leaving Ellie and Sumo behind, and they retreat into the laundry room. Connor shuts the door behind them, knowing the noise will drown out their voices, and he speaks lowly, quietly.

"I found a penknife in her laundry," He says, pointing to the offending object on the dryer. "It had thirium on it. GT600, just like the model that was with that woman. Her wounds came from jumping out of a moving car. I believe that Ellie was very determined to get out of that car, and stabbed the android in order to do so."

Hank lets out another groan, fisting his long silver hair. "Fucking christ, she _*stabbed*_ it?" He acts like he wants to pick up the knife and look it over, but restrains himself, remembering that that knife was now pretty much evidence. "Christ, she must have _*really*_ wanted out of that fucking car. Think it was a kidnapping of some sort??"

"No," Connor thinks, trying to come up with reasons as to why kidnappers would come back for their victim. "If she was kidnapped, her kidnappers wouldn't risk exposing themselves by going door to door for her. I think she's telling the truth when she says the woman is her sister... but there's definitely more to it. We should try to ask her more questions."

The dryer dings, stalling their conversation. Hank heads over to the dryer and bends over to take her clothes out of the drum, pulling her backpack out by its single strap. The main compartment pocket is unzipped, so when he pulls it out fully, its contents spill out onto his feet. Hank swears softly, reaching down to pick the objects up... and then, he goes ramrod still, still awkwardly bent over, but daring not to move at all.

"Connor," He mutters, staring down at the little packets on the ground in disbelief. "Get your ass over here and look at this."

Connor is there in a flash, stooping and picking up one of the little packets. It's a nondescript plastic baggie, full of what looks like glittering red crystal, but every person in Detroit knew what this was. It was red ice, and there were at _*least*_ nineteen other packets of it laying across the floor.

"What the _*fuck*_ ," Hank curses, stepping back as soon as Connor clears the evidence off the floor, placing it back in the girl's backpack. "The _*fuck*_ is she doing with red ice?? That's enough for at least twenty people to have one hell of a party." Connor looks down at the backpack, wishing he knew the answer to that question. What was a teenager doing with this much red ice?

"...Let's get her dressed and to the police station," Connor murmurs, quickly shuffling the rest of the red ice into the pack. "I think Ellie is in trouble."

"Yeah, you fucking think?" Hank grabs the rest of the girl's clothes, heading towards the door. "Call the station and tell them we're coming. I'll get her dressed and in the car." He swings the door open and stalks back to the kitchen, and Connor does as he's told, his LED swirling yellow as he reaches the station's late-night android, Valerie.

"Detroit Police," Valerie says brightly, way too chipper for this time of night. "It's good to hear from you, Connor. What can I do for you?"

"Lieuteniant Hank and I are coming in with a fourteen year old girl." He wirelessly reports, slipping himself into a pair of shoes that lay right outside the laundry room door. Just down the way, Ellie is pulling her sweater on over her head, suddenly looking like she's going to be sick."She showed up on our porch roughly thirty minutes ago, begging to be let in. She has injuries that suggest she jumped out of a moving car, and a group showed up shortly after looking for her. Hank and I just found red ice in her backpack. We believe she might be in trouble."

There's a few moments of silence, and then, Valerie responds wirelessly to him. "I've just informed Officer Chen and Officer Miller that you're on the way. I've also phoned for Detective Collins. What's your estimated time of arrival?"

"Fifteen minutes," Connor replies, grabbing the coat that Hank throws his way from the coat rack. "It might be a good idea to phone for a child psychiatrist as well."

"It'll be done. See you soon, Connor!" Valerie cuts off their wireless connection. Hank motions for Connor to hurry up and follow him, wrapping Ellie up in a coat that's way too large for her and leading her out the door. Connor stops for just a moment to pet Sumo and grab his keys, turning off the lights and locking up behind the three of them. The storm is still coming down relentlessly, threatening to soak them all if they don't move fast enough.

Hank throws open the back door to his car, and helps Ellie inside, shutting it behind her and climbing into the driver's seat. Connor slips into the passenger's seat, and Hank pulls them out of the driveway, and within moments, they're speeding down the residential neighborhoods, heading towards 1301 3rd Avenue.

Ellie shudders in the backseat, looking fearfully between the two men, arms hugging herself once more. "W-Where are you taking me?" She asks, one of the first full sentences she's actually said to them. Hank, not taking his eyes off the road for a moment, decides to evenly answer her, turning them into the main drag. "Connor and I found the red ice in your bag, Ellie. We're going to the police station to get you some help."

The brunette girl makes a terrified noise, shrinking back into the back seat. "Are... a-are you gonna turn me in??" She strains out, shivering heavily. Connor almost feels bad for her, knowing that there must be a reason behind such intense fear. "We believe that you might be in trouble, Ellie. I'm sure whatever it is, if you cooperate with us, we can get this all worked out and we can get you back home to your family."

Ellie's eyes dart back and forth between the doors, as if trying to decide if jumping out was a good idea again. The car rolls to a stop at a red light, Hank swearing and drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. "I know that you stabbed that GT600," Connor follows up with, softly. "But I don't think you did it to hurt him. You were trying to escape that car, weren't you? What were they doing with you?"

Her pink lips open, the light of a pair of headlights illuminating the back of her head-- and then, her eyes dart up to the rear view mirror, and she shrieks.

The sound of squealing tires fills the air, and Connor barely has enough time to slam an arm across Hank's chest to brace him as another car careens into their lane, slamming into the back right side of their car at seventy miles an hour. They fly forward into the intersection, doing a few circles before they finally spin out and come to a stop. Connor quickly looks up, trying to figure out everybody's status. Were Hank and Ellie okay?? The car had hit them very hard, and they weren't as durable as he was--

Hank's fine, his arm braced him and the worst he has now is a case of intense swearing. Ellie's still in the back, thankfully on the opposite side from where the car hit, although the pull of the seat belt is sure to give her a new bruise. She turns in the seat, looking out the now shattered back window, and she gasps, pushing herself against the car door.

"I-It's them!!" She cries out, watching as car that hit them swiftly back up, as if getting ready to ram them again. The driver of the car is none other than the woman that was on their stoop earlier, a cut lining her temple, and a very intense, determined look on her face. She means to kill them, Connor realizes. That's why she hit them with the car-- she meant to kill them, or at least get Ellie out of the car. Connor's LED swirls from red, back into yellow, two new options presenting themselves to him.

**[Confront]**

**[Escape]**

"Hank!" He yells, pulling the glove box open, a heavy black pistol now resting in hand. They were going to have to run, and fight. "Floor it before they hit us again!!"


	3. Distant Echo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus christ send help it's all just rolling out

Hank swears a couple of completely foul, fiery oaths, wrenching the car's wheels back into a moveable position. The car engine helplessly splutters, the windshield wipers skipping over the windshield's broken glass as he starts pounds the gas pedal as hard as he possibly can. "Fuck, fuck, come on, come on!!" He shouts at the floundering vehicle, its wheels desperately trying to find traction against the slippery pavement. "Don't you fucking die on me from one little fucking hit, goddammit! One little hit!"

Connor would beg to differ, that the slamming the other car, a Kia, gave them was not 'one little hit', but, they are in very, very real danger right now and he has to focus. "Ellie," He commands, rolling the front passenger window down. "Lay down in the floorboards and stay down there!"

Ellie doesn't have to be told twice, unbuckling her seat belt and throwing herself down into the backseat floorboards, right as the engine finally splutters back to life. The tires find traction on the pavement, and the car avoids being sideswiped by the KIA again by a few feet, taking off down the main drag.

To hell with the speed limit, Hank seems to decide, the speedometer's needle dangerously swirling towards one hundred miles per hour. Lightning cracks across the sky, and a gun blast peals across the stormy night, echoing like a thunderclap. The mirror on Connor's side of the car explodes into a thousand glass shards, and it is followed by another three gunshots.

**[Engage the other car]**

Unbuckling his seat belt, Connor swings his torso outside of the car window, yelling at Hank to keep them steady and get them to the police station. Holding on to the ceiling handle by the window with one hand, Connor aims his SIG Sauer down behind them, analyzing the car to see who's firing at them. His mind palace analysis shows him that the woman is focused solely on driving, while her human companion from earlier is leaning out the window, Glock in hand. Two more gunshots are fired, pinging off of the outside of Hank's car, barely missing him.

"Don't fucking get shot, Connor!" The android hears his partner yell at him, taking a sharp turn around a corner. Ellie yelps from the floorboards as the back end of the car dangerously fishtails, correcting itself with little time to spare. The car behind them takes a much wider turn, tires screeching and grass flying through the air. The telltale sound of a mailbox being completely obliterated follows, and Connor winces. That was probably going to be going on Hank's expenses.

The man in the car behind them leans out the window again, firing at Connor. The shots do not connect, thanks to Hank zigzagging them off to the left, and Connor returns fire. The right headlight of their car explodes, as does their window mirror, the man ducking back inside of the car for a moment to avoid injury. His hand darts back out of the window and there's another round of shots-- and this time, they connect, a loud pop filling the air as two of their tires blow out.

Connor clings to the ceiling handle for dear life as the car jerks to the right, Hank correcting the car back out and pressing his foot more firmly against the gas pedal. No matter how fast they go, it seems that their assailants' car is right on their tail, and more and more of those shots connect.

A back light goes out, and another shot whizzes a few mere inches away from Connor's head. He has to get them off of their tail, _*now*_ , before one of them gets shot, or before the car gives out. The flat tires are already smoking.

He must choose his next few shots carefully. Time seem to move in slow motion, as Connor raises the SIG Sauer to eye level, taking aim at the tires of the Kia. One, two, three; all his shots connect, and the front tires blow out, followed by the back right. He can see the woman frantically trying to correct the car as it jerks out of her control, but it's too late. The Kia spins a few times, and that gives them enough time to speed down the road, and get out of sight, all while the Kia helplessly tries to gain traction.

Hank doesn't slow down, not one bit, until they're at least another two miles away from the Kia. By that time, the exploded tires are worn down completely, and sparks are beginning to fly from the rims. Connor grabs Hank's arm and motions that they have to pull over; to continue would put all of them at risk.

Sharply turning to the right, Hank pulls the smoking car into the parking lot of a familiar place, a familiar park... Connor knows it very well. It had a beautiful view of the Detroit skyline and the Detroit River, and they came here at least once every two weeks so Hank could enjoy a beer and look over the river. Now, it becomes a safe haven for them to get their bearings, the older man turning the car off and leaning back into the seat, a hand on his chest.

"H-Holy fucking shit, I think I'm gonna puke." Hank gasps, breathing heavily. "Almost shit myself when the fucking tires blew out. I thought you w-were gonna get shot for sure."

"We're lucky," Connor muses, tucking the SIG Sauer back into the glove box and turning around in his seat to pull Ellie up from the floorboards. She's covered in a little bit of glass and a bit wet again, but she seems relatively okay as he pushes her back into the wet backseat. "We didn't spin out thanks to your impeccable driving skills, but... I think we're stuck here for now."

There was no way they could continue to the police station like this. Their assailants were in no shape to pursue them, thankfully, but... they'd have to call for help if they wanted to make it back to the station. Connor leans back into his seat, LED flashing, and connects wirelessly with Valerie again. "Valerie, we were ambushed on our way to the station. I have the license plates of the car, but we're in no condition to make our way back to the station. Can you send a car to our location?"

There's silence on the other line for a moment, before Valerie replies, worry in her voice. "I've dispatched Officer Miller out to you and processed the license plates. Are you okay, Connor? Do you or Lieutenant Anderson need medical attention?"

Connor checks them all over again. It didn't seem that any of them were physically injured, although Hank might have a case of the shakes for the next few hours. "I think we'll manage, Valerie. We'll see you at the station." He disconnects the call, and leans back into his seat, heaving out a sigh.

He did not want to admit it, but that... that had been quite frightening. He had been so worried that Hank might get injured, or that the car would crash, or a variety of other gory fates they could have branched off into.

But that did not happen. They kept their cool and escaped with their lives, and that was all he could ask for. Right now, though, since the back glass was blown out, Ellie's back is getting pounded by rain, and that simply will not do. "Ellie," Connor says, motioning for her to crawl over the middle console. "Come up here. I'll push the middle console up and you can sit with us, out of the rain."

Ellie doesn't look too keen on this, but the chill of the rain finally pushes her out of her seat. There's nowhere for her to go except into Connor's lap, perching precariously on his knee as he pushes the middle console up, revealing a third seat. She carefully scoots into it, and folds her hands between her legs, staring down at the front floorboards.

"I'm sorry," Her voice comes out as a faint, distant murmur, her green eyes hidden behind choppy bangs. "I-I'm so sorry. You..."

"If you're about to say 'you could have gotten killed because of me', don't, kid," Hank cuts her off immediately at the pass, prompting her into silence. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, staring out of the cracked windshield, the wipers still skipping with every stroke. With a sigh, he reaches over, and clasps a hand on her shoulder, gently patting it. If Connor didn't know any better, he would say that Hank was trying to reassure her.

"Listen to me. What you can do right now to help us is tell us who those people were, and what they want with you. That will help us get _*you*_ help, and help us figure this mess out." He gently says, as gently as a guy like him could get, at least. Ellie stares at the floor for a few moments more, eyelids fluttering in thought. Before the silence can prove Ellie has no plans to talk, she finally sighs, and she speaks, her voice quiet, defeated.

"...That lady really is my sister," She says, rethreading her fingers together. "Her... Her name i-is Daphne. Daphne Scott. S-She's twenty six, and turning in the plates o-on that car won't do any good. It's stolen and s-she and Derek and Lukas have probably already left it behind."

Hank looks surprised that she's actually talking-- and more than that, actually giving them real information. "Keep goin', kid," He prompts, squeezing her shoulder. "Derek and Lukas-- that's the skinny white fella and the GT600, right?"

Ellie nods, though she still does not meet his gaze. "Derek's the android. We... we were driving to a delivery earlier. H-He sat in the back to make sure I stayed... quiet." Her shoulders gain a visible tremble again, her fingers squeezing until the white of the plastic underneath shows. "I-I... I knew the only way I could g-get out was to stab Derek. I didn't w-want to, but I wanted out of that car so badly, that I... I-I didn't even think. I stabbed him when he t-tried stopping me from undoing my seat belt, and... and..."

She swallows harshly, obviously trying to bite back another round of tears. "You're doing great," Hank tries to encourage, even if he looks like he has no idea what he's doing. "That was pretty fuckin' brave of you, honestly. You jumped out of the car and hit the pavement, right?"

Again, Ellie nods, taking a moment to compose herself. Her breathing has picked up by a few paces, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. She looks like she's biting them back as hard as she possibly can. "Y-Yeah. It was dark, and... I just ran from door to door, trying t-to find someone at home. Your door was the third one I knocked on. I... didn't expect to be l-let in."

The way she says that is just so... sad. Ellie goes very quiet after that, and it becomes obvious that she will not speak anymore. Connor watches Hank's face transform into something odd, unreadable, gently patting her on the shoulder again. "We're gonna take care of you, kid. Sit tight, okay? I'm gonna go make a phone call to the station."

Hank exits the car, lifting his hood up as he goes to shield himself from the rain, and walks away a little too briskly. Connor sighs, and lifts his coat hood as well. He'd better go follow him. "Please wait here, Ellie."

Connor follows Hank out of the car, closing the door behind him after ensuring that Ellie was comfortable. The storm has lessened a lot since they pulled into the park, the thunder now a distant echo. Hank has already ventured out to the railing by the water, leaning his elbows on it and staring out into the black abyss of the churning water. He doesn't say anything, not even when Connor comes up besides him, resting a hand on his wet back.

The brunette knows that something is bothering him-- likely something about Ellie. "What's bothering you, Hank?" He murmurs, his thumb rubbing a wet line into the material of his coat. "Is it about Ellie?"

Hank's breath is a cloud of white mist as he heaves out a sigh, the lights of the park reflecting off of the dots of rain lining his face. "...What kinda fuckin' world do we live in, Connor?" His voice is a low, quiet rumble, the one he always took on when he was in an especially foul mood. "We can avoid World War III, we can create and come to peace with an entirely new species, but we can't fuckin' stop people from turning their damn kids into drug runners. She fuckin' threw herself out of a moving car, she was _*that*_ desperate to get away from them. The fuck were they doin' to her, Connor? The fuck made her think the only option out was something that could kill her??"

The android can understand Hank's frustration and sadness about the situation; he was not used to handling cases with children and teenagers, and cases with red ice almost always put him in the foulest of moods. The two combined was the worst situation possible. "Is that why you stopped pressing her? We should not make light of the situation we have gotten ourselves into... any and all information Ellie can give us is vital."

"I _*know*_ that," The older man groans, a hand rubbing his forehead. He stares down into the dark waters of the Detroit River, the surface reflecting a distant flash of lightning. "But goddammit, Connor, she just... she looked so helpless. I just-- I just felt bad, okay? I don't know how to handle fuckin' kids anymore. Can't stand seein' them hurt."

Connor's mind flashes to one thing: Cole. Despite everything, Cole still remained an unspoken part of their life, from those foggy mornings where Hank would return from the city graveyard, completely silent, or the nights Connor would have to wake him up after hearing him cry out in his sleep. Hank did not talk about it, and Connor did not ask unless he had to. It was something that only outside help could really aid him with, and Hank had been slow to get it.

Cole would have been ten this year. The distance between him and Ellie was huge, but Connor can see where Hank would draw the parallels. For a moment, he almost wonders if he should dare bring the subject up-- after all, Hank still missed Cole desperately and the subject was a sore one-- but before he can, the flash of police lights and the whoop of a siren draws their attention to the parking lot.

Officer Chris Miller has arrived, stepping out of his car and making a low whistle as he examines Hank's beat up car. The poor thing's in sad shape, from its ruined back end, the shattered back glass, and the shot out tires. "My God, you two," He says, the two walking back over to the lot. "This poor lady's in bad shape. I'm surprised you managed to even get here like that..."

"Yeah, I'm pretty fuckin' pissed," Hank grouses, running a hand over the crumpled back of the car. "This thing was an antique. From the 2000s. You have any idea how hard it's gonna be to have this damn thing fixed?"

Connor's lips quirk up into a bit of a smile for just a moment, before he remembers himself. They had to make this report, and get Ellie to the station. "Did Valerie pass the plate information over to you, Officer Miller?"

"Yeah," The cop replies, slipping his tablet out of his rain jacket. The report's already pulled up on screen, and he thumbs through a few pages of information that's already in the file. "The car's registered under a Sharon Russell. It was stolen from her apartment complex's garage roughly a month ago. They found it back on a residential street, but the car had been emptied out. Suspects long gone. Someone's scanning the car for prints, but it might be a bit before the results get back to the office."

What Ellie had said was true, then-- running the plates wouldn't do them much good. Hank roughly sighs, motioning towards the front of the car. "Well, we got that kid up front still. Name's Ellie. Says the lady who tried to kill us is her sister. Daphne Scott-- make sure that gets put into a search."

Chris just nods, and inputs the information, tucking the tablet back into his jacket. "Grab her, and let's get going. We'll have better luck getting this all sorted out at the station."

Hank and Connor are in full agreement with this sentiment. The weather is still terrible, despite the worst of it being over, and Ellie needs to feel secure before they'll get anything new out of her. Hank comes around to the front of the car, opening the front door. "Alright, Ellie, c'mon out, our new ride is here. ....Ellie?"

There's no response from inside the car. It's easy to see why-- it's empty.

Connor quickly scans the area, hoping to pick up any sort of sign that the girl is nearby, but, Ellie is nowhere to be found. "Ellie!" He calls into the empty park, knowing it will do no good. "Ellie! Ellie, where are you? _*Ellie*_!"

His voice echoes off into the distance, like the rolling Detroit thunder. There is no answer from the darkness of the night, and just like that, Ellie slips right out of their grasp, and possibly out of their reach.

**[Find Ellie]**


	4. Rain Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was a bit shorter than it should have been. Might go back and add some more detail in later. This one should make up for it.

"Daphne Scott."

The terminal on Connor's desk, prim and neat and covered in succulent cactuses, lights up in response to his command. Within moments, a number of files download themselves onto the current case file he has open. He adjusts his hand, skin deactivated to show the white limb underneath, and the files shift, sorting themselves out in order of priority.

The reports vary in content; most of them seem to be collection bills from the Sinai-Grace Hospital from 2032, a few past notices from various apartment complexes in Lansing and Detroit, then a few petty crimes. The files that follow that are thick with various reports and sightings, all citing the name 'The Chariot of Apollo'. For now, before he thumbs through those, Connor focuses on Daphne herself.

She was twenty-six years old, as Ellie said, born March 20th, 2013. She was 5'7", had A type blood, and still looked the same that she did in her mugshots for her petty thefts. The birth records tell Connor she only has one sibling-- Elizabeth Scott. Their parents, Warren and Gerri Scott, died in 2032. They have been alone with each other for the past seven years, and Daphne apparently had trouble staying employed.

Daphne's intense green eyes stare him down from behind the screen, red hair falling in waves around her tense face. She looks... worn out. She's probably been hiding from the police for a long, long time. Connor studies her for a moment, as if hoping to draw more information out of her face alone.

He could see the family resemblance between her and Ellie, now; their bone structures were very similar around their noses and eyes, and they shared the same shade of green. They had the same upturned lip too.

Ellie... he leans back in his seat, looking over at the desk next to his. Hank's seated in his familiar dog hair covered chair, arms folded up on his desk and head tucked down into them, fast asleep. He can't blame him for sleeping now, not when it was almost 8 AM. They got to the station around 3:43, after Hank insisted they at least drive around the park to see if they could not spot Ellie. She was fast, though, and quickly disappeared out of the area, off to only God knows where.

A file was quickly made for Ellie, and various notices put out-- one of which is in Daphne Scott's file now. He accesses it, looking the poster over.

_'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS CHILD?_

_The Detroit Police Department is looking for a teenaged girl the age of fourteen in relation to possible crimes. Cyborg; both arms, and right leg are made from Cyberlife model series HU300. 5'2", approx. 130-140 lbs. Brown hair, green eyes. Last seen in a pink sweater, shorts, cream knee-high socks, and a large black Columbia brand raincoat. If you have any information on her whereabouts, please call....'_

He trails off in reading, storing the poster back in its file. He had no doubts that a few officers were already out there, looking for her. But that meant that Daphne was likely prowling about for her too, if her violent attempts to get her back earlier this morning proved anything. He wants to be out there searching for her too, but, without proper information, and without any clues, he wouldn't get anywhere. Both he and Hank are stuck waiting here, until....

The glass security door dings, and a blonde android, dressed in dark blues and blacks, steps into the office. Connor is up on his feet right away, a warm smile splitting his lips. "Simon," He calls, stepping around from his desk. "It's wonderful to see you again. Please excuse Hank, we had a very, very long morning."

"So I heard!" Simon calls back to him, opening his arms up for a warm hug when Connor steps up to him. The blonde pulls back from the embrace, gently squeezing both shoulders. Connor is half sure he hears Gavin Reed gagging at them in the break room, but, he pays no mind to it. With any luck, Gavin might gag himself into being sick.

"I was filled in while I was in Lansing earlier." Simon continues, ignoring the noise as well. "I brought quite a few files dealing with Daphne Scott. You definitely should read them before you and Lieutenant Anderson head back out there again."

"I will. Thank you for coming all this way to help us with this case," Connor says, truly meaning it. Simon had expressed interest in furthering the relations between humans and androids after the Revolution, and was now a liaison between the police, and his fellow androids. His help was invaluable in ensuring that crimes against androids and cyborgs were answered with justice, and it was a huge help now. "Can you tell me what you know while these files are downloading?"

The blonde nods, his ankle snaring the under rim of a rolling chair and dragging it behind him, settling down next to Connor. He pulls a tablet out of his coat, and while one hand connects to Connor's terminal, the other one scrolls through the variety of files, reports, and photos relating to Daphne.

"Daphne's name is well known in Lansing," Simon says, pointing out a file that reads _'STATE'S LARGEST SMUGGLING RING PICKING UP TRACTION DESPITE POLICE EFFORTS'_. "We don't know much about her herself, but we do know about her organization. She runs a smuggling gang that calls itself the 'Chariot of Apollo'. She employs humans and androids, which is how I got involved-- there was a case in Lansing where an android was reporting that the Chariot of Apollo was blackmailing him. Said he joined after he got run out of his job at a data firm."

The Chariot of Apollo... Connor reaches out and connects to his terminal again, looking up the name of the gang. The Lansing files have finished downloading, and they come up with various hits about the movements of the Chariot of Apollo, how fast and smoothly they seemed to run, and how, no matter what, the police were _*never*_ able to catch up with them.

"They were founded in Lansing as a petty theft gang back in 2033, started by a guy named Mathew English," He muses, reorganizing the information in chronological order. "But then, once android production started picking up in Detroit, it looks like they relocated here and escalated into smuggling red ice and factory reset androids. Matthew got arrested in 2035-- that's when we think Daphne took over. They went quiet during the Revolution, but, then..."

Then they exploded with activity. There are hits in Lansing, hits here in Detroit, hits in Grand Rapids, and hits as far as Mitchell's Bay, across Lake St. Clair in Canada. "For them to be this far across Michigan, I'm willing to bet that the Chariot has connections." Simon murmurs, flipping through another few files on his tablet. "They've always managed to elude police grasp, yet always seem to have red ice to smuggle and good weapons to defend themselves with. They have other gang allies-- and someone has to be funding them."

That's the only thing that makes sense to Connor, too. Most smaller, petty rings had already been busted, but the Chariot of Apollo seemed to just be growing stronger and stronger by the day. For them to have a rich patron, somewhere in Michigan... that's a very concerning thought. He will have to bring it up when they hold the official intel meeting on Daphne Scott. Right now, though...

Connor returns back to a few files that had caught his attention, bringing them up onscreen. The hospital files from Sinai-Grace bother him... the sums on the collection bills were, frankly, obscenely large. They're all in Daphne's name, too-- Daphne would have been around nineteen years old back in 2032. Ellie would have been seven.

Warren and Gerri, their parents, died the same year... which would explain why the bills are all under Daphne's name. Everything points to some sort of incident, an accident, where Daphne and Ellie were left without help or family.

 **[** **Possible** **link between hospital bill dates and dates of Warren and Gerri Scott's deaths.]**

 **[** **Possible** **link between Daphne's debt and the Chariot of Apollo.]**

...If left with no other option, then Connor can see why a young woman with a younger sister to care for would turn to a life of crime. The Chariot of Apollo had been founded in 2033, after all, just a year after Daphne started receiving collection bills and stopped being able to pay for her apartments. And if Daphne joined the Chariot of Apollo, and later took over as their ringleader...

**[Ellie was part of the Chariot of Apollo.]**

He doubts Ellie probably went along with it willingly. If she was seven when Daphne joined, then Daphne likely brought her along for the ride, not having any other choice. But, somewhere along the way, something happened between Ellie and Daphne, something that made Ellie fear her older sister, enough for her to throw herself out of a car and beg for help at random houses.

Had their relationship soured? Ellie was becoming a teenager, after all-- she was now old enough to make decisions, and realize that she was in a world she no longer wanted to be part of. She most likely wanted to leave the Chariot of Apollo.

**[Daphne wants Ellie back. Why?]**

Why go through so much trouble to get her sister back, especially considering that Daphne was willing to ram a police car to get her out of it? Did Daphne fear that Ellie would turn her in, or was it more about recovering the goods Ellie had taken off with? There's a lot of information to put together here, and while Connor is sure he has a good starting foundation, he needs Ellie herself to tell them about the Chariot of Apollo, and about Daphne's motivations too.

**[New files put under Elizabeth 'Ellie' Scott.]**

Connor is shaken out of his train of thought by a warm hand on his shoulder, Simon smiling gently at him. "How are you faring, Connor?" The blonde asks. "And I'm not just talking about the case-- I mean in general, too. Have things been going well for you and Lieutenant Anderson?"

The brunette spares a glance over at his still sleeping partner, snoring contently at his desk. "Things have been well," He murmurs softly, lips upturned into a gentle smile, his hand reaching out across their desks and pushing some of Hank's silver hair out of his face. "I feel like we have finally settled into a degree of comfortable domesticity. Work's been busy, as always, but... it's nice to go home with him. To be in the same room with him. You understand?"

Simon chuckles, rubbing the back of his head with a hand. If he could, he'd probably be blushing."I do. It's the same with Markus and I. It's hard with him being gone all the time, but we can at least talk to each other whenever we want. He's back in Washington again this weekend, protesting a bill that the Governors of Illinois and Michigan co-penned. Have you heard about it?"

A new bill... Connor shakes his head no. He hasn't been keeping up with news like he should be. Simon leans back in his seat, picking his tablet up off of Connor's desk and pulling up a news article for him. _'Android Representative Markus Manfred protests against THCCB Act'_ , it reads, followed with _'Manfred claims the act puts androids at risk, Huckabee and Salem argue the act's scientific worth'._

"It's a bill that wants to make it legal for scientists to study the act of transferring the human brain into android bodies," Simon murmurs, looking quite troubled. "That's where THCCB comes from-- Transferring Human Consciousness to Cybernetic Bodies. The humans say it would be a huge scientific breakthrough, and it would allow them to improve quality of life, but Markus says it puts us at risk. Cyberlife stopped making androids after the Revolution, so... the bodies they want to try the study with would either have to be donated by androids themselves, or taken away."

To be honest, Connor is not sure how he feels about this bill either. The transfer of human brains to android shells... he's not even sure if that can be done. That's probably why they want to pass the act, so they can begin clinical trials, but like Simon said, Cyberlife stopped circulating new androids after the Revolution. They focused on cybernetic limbs and body parts for humans, and keeping the current population of androids well maintained.

Any android shell they'd want to try and use in their study would have to be donated, recycled from the landfill that contained thousands of shut off androids-- which would be another storm in of itself, since Markus was trying to get that landfill recognized as a mass grave memorial-- or... like Simon said, taken away from current android communities.

No wonder Markus was up in arms about it. The prospect was troubling at best, almost sinister at worst.

Connor finishes the article, and passes the tablet back to Simon. Right on cue, Hank snarks in his sleep, and suddenly jolts up at his desk, almost knocking over his long cold cup of coffee that he tried brewing, half asleep, earlier this morning. "C-Christ," He splutters, shaking himself out and looking at the time. "Why the fuck did you let me sleep for so long, Connor?"

He takes notice of Simon, who gives him a polite wave, and he groans loudly, covering his face with both hands. "You didn't even wake me up when Simon showed up! I was gonna talk to him too!"

"You had not gotten any sleep last evening, Hank," Connor chides, standing up to take the cold coffee away. His spare hand ruffles Hank's hair, prompting him to groan and half-heartedly swat at his hand. "I decided to let you rest while you could. All of the new information about Daphne's on my terminal; feel free to download it and read it while I get you something to drink. Get along while I'm gone, you two!"

He winks over his shoulder, and he feels the small thwack of a pen hitting his back shortly after. Still smiling, Connor heads into the break room, makes a point to say good morning to _*everybody*_ still inside, including Gavin Reed and diligently washes out Hank's coffee mug in the sink. He slips it into the coffee dispenser, and once it's full of dark, steaming coffee, he makes to return back to their desks. Gavin puts down the newspaper he was reading, and follows Connor out of the breakroom, presumably to go back to his desk.

Like always, though, he makes sure to give Connor a nice, hard shoulder bump. If Connor had been any less diligent, he would have spilled Hank's coffee all over himself, and stained his perfectly white shirt. "Oops," Gavin 'apologizes', looking back over his shoulder at the android, lip curled back in a sneer. "So, _*so*_ sorry about that, Connor. Must have stumbled."

"Please don't worry about it, Detective Reed," Connor says a little too brightly, his smile a smidge too wide. "I have recalibrated myself to anticipate all of your stumblings. Perhaps you should think about going to a doctor if this persists, however. Your health is a huge priority here at the DPD."

A vein throbs angrily in Gavin's right temple, and Connor hears Hank and Simon snarking at his desk. Determined to get this coffee back to Hank before anything else happens to it, Connor turns his attention away from Gavin and returns back to Hank's desk, dropping the fresh coffee off in front of him. Gavin stares at him for a moment more from across the office, until he finally mutters some sort of obscenity under his breath, stalking back to his desk as well.

An alert flags itself in Connor's mind palace, and he checks into it, his LED processing the request in yellow swirls. His eyes widen as soon as he processes the whole order, turning back to Hank and Simon, who are now regarding him curiously. "Simon, I apologize, but we're going to have to cut this conversation short. Hank, please finish your coffee as fast as you can. They found Ellie."

**[Ellie located]**

**[Track her to location]**

:-:

The sound of happy children, android and human alike, echo across the sun-drenched glass buildings of the CL Plaza Promenade. Hank once told Connor that the huge buildings surrounding this area used to belong to some old car company called General Motors, but then Cyberlife bought out the area in 2037 and remodeled the area to better fit their aesthetics. After the Revolution, it had become a bustling hub for androids to enjoy themselves at, the area playfully calling itself 'Detroit's Cybernetic Playground'.

A beat officer reported in thirty minutes back that Ellie had last been spotted near the promenade's carousel. Hank spots her before Connor does, a rarity, and the two of them stop for a moment under an awning to watch her. She's sitting quietly on a bench by the Riverwalk, still swimming in Hank's far too big raincoat, watching a group of android children play nearby. The skin on her cybernetic limbs has been taken off, shock white hands peeking out from the long black sleeves of her borrowed coat. Maybe she did it to fit in a little more.

A little four year old android girl, her blonde hair pulled up into pigtails, skips along a line of puddles near her bench. She loses her balance a moment or two later, falling to her hands and knees with a great splash. She sniffs, and audibly starts to cry, looking around for her parents. Ellie looks up from her prone position, and stands up, approaching the girl and getting her back onto her feet. She says something to the girl-- neither Hank or Connor or close enough to hear what it is-- but she smiles at the little android, and wipes her hair out of her face.

Moments later, a white haired android woman, an old AX700 model, appears from the crowd. While she kneels next to the little blonde girl, Ellie uses this time to retreat back to her bench, and resumes watching the crowd. Hank shifts his weight from one foot to another, watching the girl fish a crumpled package of crackers out of her short pockets, absently chewing on one.

"What kinda fuckin' mess have we gotten ourselves into with her?" He murmurs, although Connor is unsure if the question is directed at him, or merely a hypothetical one.

"Ellie is obviously troubled," The android decides to offer, clasping his hands behind his back in thought. "Daphne being the leader of the Chariot of Apollo is more than telling. There's the possibility of the Chariot of Apollo being linked to high dollar funding, and other gangs. That's a very high pressure, very stressful situation for a girl her age to be in."

Hank opens his mouth, probably ready to protest that it was a hypothetical question, goddammit, but he just sighs roughly instead, leaning against the nearby glass wall. "Look at'er," The older man says, motioning a hand in her direction. "She looks like a baby in her dad's suit jacket. You'd have no idea her sister was some damn drug kingpin that's got Michigan by the balls."

Shrieking children run by the two of them, holding colorful pinwheels lit up with LEDs. Hank observes them, an odd darkness in his eyes, and when he talks again, his voice is quieter, a bit more subdued. "The kid doesn't deserve to be in this situation, man. No kid does. She shows up on our porch, needin' help, but when we try to give it to her, she runs off into the night like some kinda ghost."

**[Sincere]/[Analytical]/[Distant]**

Connor's LED cycles into yellow, and he sighs. He sidesteps to the left, to nudge himself a little closer to Hank, their shoulders brushing together. "She's scared," He replies, trying to look at the situation from the girl's eyes. How would he feel, if he were in her shoes?

"Her sister is dangerous. She followed her when she escaped, and then attempted to either injure or kill us in her attempts to get her back. It's likely that she has internalized her troubles, and is trying to avoid confrontation. She wants to handle the situation on her own. She probably feels... like it will be her fault, if something happens to anybody that tries to help her."

The older man snorts, though it doesn't really have any fire behind it. "Sounds like every damn teenager under the sun." He looks back towards Ellie, the girl pushing another cracker into her mouth. "And that makes our job ten times harder. But we gotta get her to see we just wanna help. I don't want the Chariot of Apollo to snatch her right back up, not after she just ran away from them..."

Yellow, yellow, back to blue. Connor leans more into Hank's side, his hand reaching out and taking Hank's own. His thumb traces a circle into the back of his hand, a comforting gesture. "I know," He says, lifting that hand and giving the back of it a small kiss. "We'll do right by Ellie, I promise. Now, let's go talk to her before she spots us and leaves."

Pressing another kiss to the back of Hank's hand, Connor lets go and splits up from him, motioning that they should blend in and box her in from the left and right. With a nod, Hank disappears into the crowd, raising the hood of his jacket to blend in with the android populace. The noise is so loud that they blend right in, Ellie none the wiser as she finishes her crackers and sticks her hands in the pockets of Hank's rain jacket, drifting back off into thought.

Connor approaches one side of the bench, Hank covering the other. Ellie seems so preoccupied with her thoughts, that she doesn't look up until Connor's just about in front of her right side. She gasps, and moves to slide off to the left, her feet splashing in the large puddle in front of the bench, but Hank intercepts her and grabs her arm, stopping her from going any farther.

"Let's sit back down, Ellie. We have a lot to talk about." Hank says, taking on what Connor assumes is an authoritative, parental tone. It's almost odd hearing him speak like that, and it makes him feel... strange. It's almost like he's seeing a side of Hank he's never been privy to before.

Ellie shrinks under his gaze, but doesn't struggle against him as he seats her on the bench, taking a seat next to her. Connor opts to stand and watch the crowd, clasping his hands behind his back. The plaza, lined with puddles, is an almost perfect reflection of the sky and the buildings around them, like a salt flat reflecting the infinite horizon.

It's a beautiful sight, really... the perfect calm after the storm. Or, rather, for them, the perfect calm before the sweeping hurricane that's about to bear down on them.

Hank's hands twitch against his knees. He probably wishes he had a beer in hand, or maybe some pineapple soda. Anything to wet the dryness that consumes his mouth right now. Fuck. He had no idea how to talk to kids or teenagers anymore.

"...How come you turned off your skin?" He decides to start with, motioning to the girl's white hands, the white thigh that peeks out between her shorts and her socks. "Or did Connor mangle your shoulder more than it already was?"

The girl's lashes flutter, and the barest of snorts gets out of her before she can stop it. She looks off towards the reflection of Detroit, the sun dancing across the puddles. "I like it here." She says, her voice loud, clear, not a scared whisper like it was earlier.

A white hand comes up to play with the end of a chocolate colored braid, swirling the strands between her cybernetic fingertips. "It's always so busy, always something to do. Before... before my sister got too busy with work, we'd sometimes come here. Sit out here, watch the birds, the people... I-It's been a while since I've been able to come."

That's probably code for 'Daphne stopped letting me out of her sight', Hank muses to himself. She kept a good, tight chokehold on her. The kid must not have had much of a life, outside of Daphne's work, and wherever the woman decided to tote her around. "That so? I'm surprised you managed to get all the way down here by yourself. From the park that's like, what, an hour's walk?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Hank can see Connor's LED whirl yellow. He's about to smart off and ruin his streak, he just knows it.

"The walk would be approximately one hour and twenty-one minutes." Connor supplies helpfully, as if it really mattered at the end of the day.

Hank sighs, motioning towards the android with a hand, giving her an exaggerated eye roll. God, he almost feels stupid doing it. Ellie probably wasn't buying any of this. "See that? This little asshole can't even let me talk to girls without sticking his nose into my business."

To his surprise, Ellie splutters, and she _*laughs*_ , honest to god laughs, covering up her mouth with a white hand. "He's nice, though," She supplies moments later, swallowing back another giggle. For the first time since they'd met, the kid actually seems to be in a pleasant mood. "I like him. "

Another fingernail hold of trust. He hates to ruin what has to be the best mood she's been in in a while, but Hank has to seize this with everything he's worth.

"...That why you ran away from us this morning?" He asks, leaning forward on his knee, blue eyes meeting her green own. "You tryin' to keep us out of trouble? That ain't gonna work. We're cops, it's our _*job*_ to get into trouble."

Ellie swallows, and breaks their gaze. Shit, he fucking pushed too hard, didn't he? He can barely begin reprimanding himself for being an idiot before she replies, shaking her head and sticking the tip of her shoe into the puddle in front of them, sending ripples across its reflective surface.

"She tried to kill you." Her voice is quieter, more strained. "I guess she figured i-if you got me back to the police, I'd... squeal on her and the others."

Squeal. She says it like it's a fucking dirty word, and Hank _*hates*_ it. "Ellie, kid. Look at me." She won't lift her face up towards him, so Hank reaches out and takes her chin in hand, pulling her head up. Her emerald green gaze finally comes back to him, and he speaks again, softly.

"Protecting your own life isn't 'squealing', whatever the fuck that means to your sister and her little ragtag gang. You jumped outta that car because you had enough of whatever they're doing. You don't wanna be tangled up in this mess, do you?"

Her lip trembles. "...N-No. I don't."

"You don't have to protect your sister if she's making you do bad things, Ellie." Hank sighs, letting go of her chin. His hand comes to rest on her shoulder again, and she doesn't flinch back away from him. That was a good sign. "That red ice in your bag-- was that a delivery she was gonna make you do?"

The brunette gives him the tiniest nod, as if afraid that her sister might be lurking nearby to see her. "I'm the smallest a-and I have two cybernetic arms. No fingerprints. Nobody even looks twice at me." She whispers to him. She's transforming back into that shrinking, scared girl she was this morning, but she seems to finally _*trust*_ them. "...I-I'm still gonna get in trouble, aren't I? For the ice..."

Ah, shit. That was the one thing Hank could not answer for certain. He spares a glance at Connor, his eyes telling him to fucking help him out here, maybe help him reassure her that things were gonna turn out peachy keen in the end. Connor gives him the barest shake of his head-- he's leaving him high and dry here to deliver that news on his own. Dammit, Connor.

"...I'm not sure." Hank says truthfully, shaking his head. "I'm not in charge of juvie cases, so I can't tell you for certain. In normal cases, yeah, you'd probably be charged with possession and intent to distribute. But, you're Daphne Scott's younger sister, and Daphne Scott is running the biggest damn red ice ring in this state. If you can give us information that will help us arrest her, then I'm pretty sure we might be able to work something out to get you out of the doghouse."

Ellie goes silent. He probably overwhelmed her with that last bit. He should probably reassure her beyond 'yeah, you might go to prison'. Hank dares to lean forward, reaching out and taking one of Ellie's stark white hands, so small and delicate compared to his worn, calloused palm. She inhales a little more sharply than before, but, she makes no move to jerk her hand away from him.

"...I know you still probably love your sister, Ellie, and you don't wanna see her get in trouble. But she tried to murder us today, and she probably _*has*_ killed others from all the ice she's spreading around." Hank says. "And worst of all, she's using you, her own damn flesh and blood. You probably never even had a choice in any of this because she's all you've known. But Ellie, you can help us end this. You can help us bring your sister to justice by telling us all that you know. And I swear to you, me, Connor, and the whole damn DPD will trip over our own asses to ensure that you stay safe. I promise."

Hank's chest feels so, so tight. Why is that? Is it the way she's looking at him, the way Connor's turned around and the way he's openly _*looking*_ at him like a ghost now? Ellie's hand trembles in his own, and she turns her head, and her gaze, back to the reflection of Detroit before them.

"....Okay." Ellie's voice is small, and unsure. A tear finally escapes from her left eye, and streaks down her freckled cheek. "I t-trust you. I... I'll help you."


	5. Rigor Samsa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got a little burned out, but refreshed myself with a day at the beach. I should probably *not* pump out 15k words in two days again, so updates will probably slow down a bit. I want to give you guys good, quality chapters and get this all spaced out properly. I originally had intended for this to be only ten chapters, but it might be better to spread them out a bit. 
> 
> the meaning of this chapter's title, from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows; 
> 
> n. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, but always ends up cracking under pressure or hollowed out by time—and will keep growing back again and again, until you develop a more sophisticated emotional structure, held up by a strong and flexible spine, built less like a fortress than a cluster of tree houses.
> 
> please enjoy!

The sound of shuffling papers fills the room, files being adjusted in Detective Ben Collin's hands. Connor notes the sweat beading on his forehead, despite the cool temperature. "How many other bases are there?"

The microphone of the interrogation room goes staticky for a moment. Probably from Ellie adjusting her chair, the metal feet squealing across the floor. It must be impossible to be comfortable when your wrists are handcuffed to the table. "Two, I think. Three total in Detroit. Daphne and I lived at the one that's down where the old Cyberlife warehouse used to be. It, uh, was near where Jericho was scuttled last year. I've never been to the bigger one."

"Why's that?"

"I... I dunno. She had me do deliveries from the base we lived at, and from the one off Renaissance. I don't know where the other one is, though. She never really talked about it to me. Neither did any of the others. I guess she told them not to tell me."

"Why do you think that is?"

There's an uncomfortable pause. Ellie's heart rate speeds up, recorded on the two-way glass between the rooms. A woman in a pink coat, Ellie's assigned lawyer, fidgets in the corner she's observing the interview in. "...I'm not sure. Could be that's where she keeps the main stash and a lot of our cash. She meets clients there too. Never at the smaller bases."

A sigh permeates the ears of everybody sitting in the observation room, crammed to the gills with various officers and detectives from different units. Collins adjusts a few papers in hand, writing something down on them."You're doing great, Ellie. This is all really useful information. Just a few more questions, and then we'll let you get some rest, I promise."

Ellie leans her cheek on a hand, the dark rings under her eyes standing out against her pale skin. She looks exhausted. Hank sympathizes with her; he was still bloody fucking exhausted from the shitshow that's been the past forty-eight hours. There hadn't been a moment's rest ever since he and Connor brought Ellie back to the station-- since Ellie's official arrest.

Collins lays down the files in hand on the desk, and laces his fingers under his chin. "Tell us more about Daphne. Most people would think twice before jumping out of a moving car, but you jumped out and injured yourself pretty badly to get away from her. Did Daphne... ever do anything to you, Ellie? Or have someone else do something to you?"

It's quiet in the interrogation room. Ellie's hands fidget within their bonds, as if wishing she could move them more freely. In the observation room, Connor feels someone breathing on the back of his neck as they lean in to listen better-- he thinks it might be Officer Chen.

"I mean," Ellie finally starts, green eyes cast off towards the blank wall next to the interrogation table. "She never, um, r-really _*hit*_ hit me, but sometimes... she'd get frustrated and push me around. Slap me if I'd really been bratty. I-I didn't really know what was going on back then, and I wanted to go home, but she'd just.... say we didn't have a home to go back to because of me."

Hank's hands tighten up on the top of his thighs, gripping the material of his pants with an almost iron grip. How the fuck could she just say that so nonchalantly? Was she _*that*_ used to being shoved around? Connor, sensing his distress, reaches over and takes his hand under the table, stopping him from clawing right through his jeans. The grip is grounding, reassuring, even if Hank's sure he's crushing the shit out of Connor's hand.

Collins nods, patiently waiting for her to continue. The words eventually come, a small sigh on Ellie's lips. "...Most of the time, outside of deliveries, she just kinda ignored me. She was always so busy. S-Sometimes she'd get high, I-I mean, with all the ice around... when that happened, I'd try to go to the other side of the base, but she'd just follow me and yell at me. S-Say it was my fault we were in this situation. My fault we had to join the Chariot of Apollo. When she came off the high, she'd just... lay there and cry."

She bites her lip, her palms spread flat against the cold steel of the table. "...Then Matthew got arrested, and she took over. T-Then I had to d-do all her deliveries, but outside of that, she forgot I existed. Had Derek, her GT600, watch after me."

_'B-But my sister-- my sister disappeared from our house just down t-the street. I've been looking for her all night, b-but nobody's been able to tell me anything. Have you seen h-her?'_

_What a fucking crock of shit_ , Hank bitterly thinks. Ellie had just been _*ten*_ , a little girl that should have been in a happy home with a good family when Daphne first started sending her out on her little errands. Daphne had laid all the blame for whatever fucking tragedy befell both of them on a _*little kid*_ , and took out all her anger and frustration on the one person she should be goddamn helping.

"...The other night, Daphne was driving me to a delivery." Ellie sounds so quiet, so defeated. "She and Lukas were smoking ice and talking about what they were going to do once the big project's done. I-- I really don't know what the project is. All I know is that Daphne's been working really hard on it. Won't s-stop talking about it. "

"Go on, Ellie," Collins gently prompts when Ellie chokes on the next few words. Her hands strain against the wire cuffs, longing to wipe away the bitter tears forming in her eyes. "What happened in the car?"

"...Lukas asked her what we were going to do once everything was over. A-And..." Ellie's breath stutters, eyelids rapidly fluttering. Her head sinks down, hands clenching into fists. "She just-- s-she just looked back at me for a moment. The look in her eyes, it-- I-I've never seen her look at me like t-that before. Like she wished I was _*dead*_."

 **[Daphne resents Ellie.]** Connor distantly logs into his mind palace.

"T-That's when I finally understood. S-She couldn't care less about me." Ellie practically spits out, her cheeks wet, dripping. Her chair screeches uncomfortably against the floor. "She didn't t-try to get me back because she cares about me. I-It's because I have her m-money and b-because I know where most of the bases are. I-I didn't w-want to help her! I-I want to have my own life and I-I was gonna end up _*dead*_ with her by the end of her p-project!"

Her voice is an uncomfortable, almost manic, pitch. Despite not being human, Connor still feels his skin crawl at the look in her eyes. "W-Why would she let me go, knowing everything she's done? Y-You can't have witnesses running away and telling on you."

Ellie's manic energy seems to leave her in one great burst, and she slumps back into her chair, eyes hidden by her bangs. "That'd... t-that'd ruin everything."

**[Daphne wanted Ellie back to an prevent information leak.]**

**[It is unlikely Ellie would have been alive by the end of the month if she had not jumped from Daphne's car.]**

Nobody's comfortable anymore. Not that they were in the first place. Collins reaches into his breast pocket, dabbing his sweaty forehead. "Thank you, Ellie," He says softly, pushing himself to his feet and pulling a set of keys off of his belt. "We'll let you rest for now. Let's go back to your cell."

An officer lets themselves into the interrogation room, a new pair of wire cuffs in hand as Collins uncuffs Ellie from the interrogation table. The officer, as gently as they can, clasps the new cuffs around Ellie's wrists, and motions for her to follow them out of the room. Her lawyer follows, resting a hand on her shoulder as they go. On unspoken cue, the officers in the observation room begin to file out as well. No need to stay in an empty room.

Hank doesn't budge from his chair, not even when Connor gently pulls on his hand. "Come on, Hank," The android murmurs, pulling again, and still finding resistance. It was like Hank was suddenly a thousand pounds. "We need to get going. The prosecutor will be here soon."

"I need a fucking drink." Hank grumbles under his breath, finally pushing his heavy frame out of the chair he's been sitting in for the past thirty minutes.

Connor almost reminds him that drinking was not allowed on the job, and most certainly would result in another warning being added to his novel of a disciplinary folder, and that wouldn't do at all, but the dark look in Hank's eyes silences him. Now's not the time.

Instead, he just clasps his hands behind his back and follows his partner out of the observation room, keeping up with his wide, brisk gait. He wasn't stalking back to his desk-- Hank was heading towards the back of the station, where the temporary holding cells were, and where Ellie had been stashed for the past two days. They've probably just finished taking her back to her cell... He probably just wanted to talk to her was all.

There's not a lot of time until the prosecutor arrives. Hank's just trying to comfort Ellie before she gets here and the charges are officially filed, Connor's mind tries to supply helpfully. This was all very stressful on Ellie, and familiar people would make her feel better. She was used to them, she was familiar with them... they were trying to look after her, even if they had been the ones to finally bring her back to the station.

Hank blows past just about almost every cop in the station, not stopping until he gets to the end of the hallway of holding cells. Sure enough, Ellie's inside, still red faced, sitting cross legged on the padded bench that served as her bed. The others at least had _*some*_ goddamn decency and gave the girl some additional clothes to wear after her previous outfit was confiscated, along with a pillow and a blanket and a few things to read, so she wasn't bored out of her mind while waiting to be sent to prison.

She's just absently staring at her cybernetic hands until she notices the two of them approaching. She gasps, and slides off the bench, coming up to the glass and pressing the palms of her hands against it.

"Lieutenant," She says, pressing her forehead against the glass. It leaves an oily smear, but she doesn't seem to notice. "I-- I told him all I knew. I s-swear I did."

"Kid, I believe you." The older man replies, shoving his hands into his coat pockets and regarding the girl. "We believe you, promise. Just came to see how you were farin' was all."

That's not the only reason, Connor muses quietly, the right side of his face awash in yellow light.

"Did your lawyer go everything with you? Did she tell you what to do and what your defense is going to be?" The silver haired man asks Ellie, stooping a bit to get to her eye level. She nods, pulling a white hand back from the glass to nervously twirl her hair around a finger.

"She says that in return for all the information, they're gonna let me to file for a duress defense." Her green eyes cast themselves off to the other side of the cell. "She says that the jury might choose to not convict me once the investigation finishes and once I finally get a hearing."

The chance of a jury nullifying Ellie's charges by refusing to convict were... rather low. Such cases were rare in the law world. Connor opens his mouth to remind Hank of this, but a sharp glance, just like earlier, quiets him again.

**[Hank is attached to Ellie. Perhaps unhealthily so.]**

Connor had noted it right after they brought Ellie to the station. Hank had gone into an almost manic state of pulling up old law books that were older and dustier than him, making sure Ellie got a lawyer, and researching American duress laws-- pretty much the exact opposite of what he should have been doing during the past forty-eight hours.

Ellie's case had been taken over by the Major Drug Unit, so, in all honesty, Hank and Connor's hands should have been washed of most of the responsibility of the case. But Hank didn't view it that way, often muttering under his breath that this was what his position was _*for*_ , goddammit, whenever Connor reminded him that perhaps he needed to take a break and let the other departments handle the meat of the case.

That dark look in Hank's eyes concerned Connor greatly, sending a wash of nervousness up and down his circuits. Was he perhaps unhealthily viewing this as a chance to save a child, when he failed last time??

**[Hank did not fail Cole. But he still carries that guilt with him. Is that guilt what's making him latch on to Ellie?]**

Connor's so absorbed in his own thoughts that he comes into their conversation mid-sentence. "--might be held for longer due to the fact you're key evidence." He catches Hank tell Ellie, who nods in understanding. "That's what they said too. Said I was a police asset until the investigation was done, at which point they'd get the hearing arranged."

"Right, right. It's probably going to take a few weeks. I'm sorry it's taking so long, probably sucks a lot for you to have a bunch of old bags with badges constantly talking your ear off."

Ellie's tear-stained, red cheeks dimple with a tiny smile. "I'm managing."

Hank smiles at her, resting a hand on the glass in front of her, and something in Connor's chest tightens. A self-diagnostic test tells him it's not his components doing that. "Hang in there, kiddo. You're being really brave and I'm really proud of you. Me and Connor will come back and check on you again in a few hours, okay?"

Ellie nods, and retreats back to bed so she can pick up an old paperback book and start reading it. Wrapped up in that blanket, she looks so young and small, and even as Hank walks away, Connor pauses and observes the girl for a few moments more, curiosity getting the better of him. She peeks up at him through her bangs, and gives him a tiny smile before returning back to her book.

An odd shudder runs through the android, and he has to shake his head and follow Hank to be free of the feeling. He... it was so strange. It could be the remnants of his original programming, to ensure that no matter the cost, his mission was completed, but he just wants to ensure that the girl is well cared for. It's such an odd urge, a desire to do something _*more*_ , something beyond handling her case and blaise words.

Maybe he should mention it to Hank, he notes. But first, he needs to talk to him about Ellie, and by the way Hank's pulling his jacket on and clocking out at his terminal to take his lunch break, he'll have a chance soon. He double checks his schedule to make sure their schedules match, and electronically requests to clock in for his break as well.

**[Talk to Hank.]**

:-:

Hank, to the surprise of absolutely no one, drives them to the other side of town to Chicken Feed. Gary's there, as usual, waiting with a large pineapple soda and a fully loaded burger in hand. He hisses when Hank approaches, setting the food down on the serving bar and shaking his head at the sorry state he's in. "Jesus, Hank, you look like you've been through a fuckin' meat grinder."

"I've gotten collectively eight hours of sleep over the past three days, and I nearly got run off the damn road the other day. No shit I look like shit too." Hank deadpans, passing Gary a handful of various bills and small change in exchange for the food. "Keep the change, Gary, probably not gonna be able to do as many favors for you in the coming weeks. My hands are fucking full with this new case."

Gary tsks, but doesn't say anything else. Hank's a little grateful for it, seeing as how he really doesn't want to go balls deep in explaining this case to everybody who bothered asking. Connor gives a friendly nod to Gary and follows him to their usual table, where he eagerly tears into the greasy burger. Fuck, as nice as Connor's cooking is, sometimes he missed eating greasy, heart-attack inducing food. If you wanted to eat yourself into an early death by sweet, sweet grease, Gary was always your man.

Being out of the station did little good for Hank's thoughts. Normally he loved any chance of being out of that stifling office, mostly because who fucking _*wanted*_ to breathe the same air as Gavin Reed-- but right now, all he can think about is that kid, sitting alone in a holding cell with only a few dusty books for decent company. Her whole life, up until this point, has just been one giant shitshow. When was the last time that kid actually had a decent hug or someone to talk to?

She was ten when Daphne started toting her around as a drug mule. Cole woulda been ten this year too. Honestly, he and Ellie could totally be mistaken for siblings. They both that had that pretty shade of brown hair. If Cole was around and just so happened to meet her, would he like her?

Probably. Kid was always cool as a cucumber, so laid back and easy to please. He would have declared her his best friend by the end of the day, but he did that with _*everybody*_ too. Had more best friends than his little fingers could count.

A fleeting image of that little boy and his brunette hair and his toothy smile flashes behind the silver haired man's eyes, making him almost choke on his soda. Cole was coming back to haunt him during this case, Hank was sure of it; he had to be watching his every move, wondering what his brave, strong daddy was going to do next to save that girl. He always thought his job had been cool, like he was some kinda superhero saving distressed dames and bringing bad guys to justice.

Real life was a lot uglier and sadder than that. On one hand, Hank was glad Cole didn't have to see that kind of shit day in and day out. On the other hand, he missed him so much that his chest still tightened to this day when he thought about him too much, just like it is now. He has to put down his cup and take in a few deep breaths, because _*christ*_ , those memories snuck up on him fast.

Normally he had the mental fortitude to survive such an onslaught of thought-- or, well, he had the mental fortitude when he had time to _*prepare*_. And Ellie had just unceremoniously dropped in and fucked him up before he had the time to even process it.

Every time he looked at her, he saw _*him*_ , his little mouth straining to pull in a breath, the blood trickling out of his flaring nostrils. That face haunted him, reminded him that he could not afford to fuck this up and have Ellie slip out of his grasp. He already failed one kid, he wasn't doing it again--

His hand hurts. Why the fuck was that? Hank looks down and sees Connor's hand, gripping him like a vice, trying to pull him back to reality. Ah. That's why.

"Hank," Connor's voice is soft, a soothing, grounding thing that cuts right through Hank's anxiety. "Breathe. Your pulse is much faster than normal."

So it is. Damn heart feels like it's going to pound out of his chest, a miracle considering how clogged all his arteries must be. "Shit," Hank breathes, his spare hand carding itself through his hair. "Sorry, Connor. Kinda got lost down memory lane for a second."

Connor can see right through him with those big brown eyes of his. He always has been able to, disarming him at a moment's notice. "...You were thinking of Cole," He says gently, yet gingerly. "Ellie reminds you very much of him, doesn't she?"

"Why the fuck do you have to be so damn astute?" Hank spits at him, but there's no venom behind his words. He leans against the cool metal table, hand still in his hair, his lunch laying half forgotten in front of him. "It-- It's hard _*not*_ to think of him, okay? Ellie's just a kid. A kid that has no one she can trust except us bozos, in a shitty situation that she doesn't deserve to be in."

Connor's LED flashes blue a few times against his temple. It's obvious he's scanning his computer of a brain to try to find a way to empathize with him, but it's gotta be hard when you have no hands-on experience with parenting. Data nodules and the internet can only supply you with so much.

And Connor, analytical mess that he is, even after turning into a deviant, chooses the analytical approach, half lidded brown eyes studying him. "You're... attaching the feelings of guilt you have about Cole to Ellie, as well. Failing Ellie would be like failing your son over again."

Hank has to seriously bite his lip to stop his initial reaction from showing, which is an odd, defensive flare of anger. That's just your trauma flaring up, he can hear his old therapist unhelpfully say in that sing-songy tone he used to use. It's okay to feel angry as long as you can talk about it in a constructive manner! Anger is a normal human emotion and so is grief and guilt!

He abandoned that therapist, which was expensive as hell, for the much cheaper and much less judgemental therapist, good ol' booze. Hank's really beginning to wish that maybe he didn't do that.

"If we fuck this case up," Hank begins, slowly, trying to temper his emotions. "Ellie's going to go to prison, which is the last damn place that kid needs to be. The kid needs therapy, a _*lot*_ of fucking therapy, a nice, stable home with a mom and a dad and everything she could ever want, and she needs to not feel like she's going to be killed by her own fucking sister. She doesn't need to be tossed into a damn 4 by 4. Prison's going to ruin her."

He sighs roughly, pulling his hand out of his hair and half-slamming it against the metal tabletop. Connor, oddly enough, flinches a little. "I wanna help her, Connor, because she's got no one else that'll advocate for her. Me and you saw her stand there and bleed all over the damn place on our porch. Me and you nearly got run over by her damn sister. Do you get the theme I'm getting at here??"

Connor slowly nods, LED transitioning into yellow. "...You feel like it is our responsibility to help her because we're the ones she came to. Therefore, we need to look after her and advocate on her behalf."

"Yeah! Pretty fucking much!" Hank throws his hands into the air, severing the connection of their laced fingers. Gary's leaning out of his food truck to listen to their conversation and he can't bring himself to care or tell him to mind his own damn business. "I don't care if it was an accident or fuckin' God scooting her down the street, somehow she ended up on _*our*_ doorstep! Out of everybody in our neighborhood, it was us she ended up with, and no one else can help her like we can!"

Turning his back on Ellie just wasn't an option for Hank, not after seeing her shivering, soaked by the storm, bleeding everywhere on their porch. It'd... it'd feel like letting Cole slip out of his arms, and into the arms of the MP600 that had to operate on him. God, he still remembers the stench of red ice that permeated that operating theater. Ellie had the same smell too.

Hank doesn't realize that his shoulders are violently shaking, not until Connor slips around the edge of the metal table, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tucking himself into his side, resting his forehead against the side of his head. His LED reflects blue off of the tabletop, staining his food the color of the sky.

"It's okay," Connor soothes, reaching down with his spare hand and taking his hand, larger, older, imperfect, into his own. Not a single blemish of age on that artificial skin. "It's okay, Hank. We're going to help Ellie. We're going to do everything that we can for her, okay? I'm sorry I brought Cole up, I shouldn't have compared them--"

"No," Hank rasps, shaking his head. God, his head hurts. When the fuck did he get such a bad headache? "No, don't. You're right. I just-- I look at her and I _*see*_ him. They look so alike. Thinking about her sitting in that prison cell makes me want to fucking puke."

Connor pulls back, turning his head with his hand and pressing their foreheads together. Gary promptly stops listening to them and goes back to cooking, pretending he didn't see that.

"Promise me," The android whispers to him, his thumb stroking across his bristly jawline. "Promise me that you'll step back and take a break if this affects your mental state adversely. I can always step in where you need me to. I _*want*_ to help you in any way I can. That's why we're together, right?"

Goddamn him, being all supportive and understanding and shit. That almost wants to make Hank puke too. "I can do that," He finally manages to say, blue eyes drowning in those brown ones. "Probably gonna need a *lot* of stepping back. Do you know anything about taking care of traumatized fourteen year olds??"

Connor chuckles lightly, smiling at him, despite everything. "Only what my old directives tell me, but I think I can adapt as necessary."

And then Connor leans in, and there's the warm ghost of his lips on his own, then that familiar, gentle press of them meeting that always makes his mind short-circuit out. Gary is _*definitely*_ trying to ignore them now.

Pulling back from the kiss a few moments later, Connor smiles again and leans up, pressing another kiss on his forehead. "Let's take this back to the station," He says, reaching for Hank's half eaten burger, wrapping it up in its tinfoil. "You can finish it there. I think we should get back before the prosecutor arrives."

Shit. Hank forgot she was coming to discuss how to proceed with Ellie's charges. He nods, a little distantly, picking up his pineapple soda and draining the rest of the cup in a few deep chugs. "R-Right. If you're gonna kiss me again any time soon, make sure you do it in front of Gavin. Maybe he'll gag himself into the next dimension and off of Ellie's case. That'd be fucking fantastic."

The android laughs, reaching out and taking one of his hands in his own. "Duly noted. And Hank?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Thank you," Connor says so sincerely it hurts. "Thank you for opening up to me. We're going to help Ellie, as a team, and open communication is always important, in any kind of relationship."

Hank trashes his soda cup into the recycling bin, and doesn't answer. That's fine with Connor.


End file.
